Family
by msgrits
Summary: They say my Dad won’t make it through the night. He’s not a young man."


**Title: Family**

**Spoilers: I don't think so.**

**A/N This is the sequel to _Gily_. It's not required reading but might be helpful. Thanks to phoenix38133 and smryczko who served as betas**. Enjoy.

**Clay**

They say my Dad won't make it through the night. He's not a young man. He was always a little older than everyone else's father, but he was always there, cheering me on. His age had its advantages. Gil Grissom had made a name for himself and he could set his price, call his own shots, work or not. He was a father more than he went to any job. I could always say with confidence that my dad would be there.

He came to everything and through some miracle that can only be attributed to the iron will of Sara Sidle Grissom, we even managed to convince him to lead my Cub Scout Troop. Needless to say most of the badges had to do with insects, which was completely cool for a bunch of six and seven year olds. He did refuse to wear the short pants though.

People say my brother Gily is the spitting image of Dad. They are right. He's all curly hair and blue eyes and teeth straightened by years of braces. He fills up space like Dad too, with his broad shoulders and massive chest.

I used to be jealous of the resemblance. I'm more like Mom, all long limbs and elegant lines, Mom's words, not mine. In my mind, Gily and Dad could do real man stuff. They boxed and Gily wrestled. Wherever they went, the air even moved out of the way.

Once I asked Dad if I would ever be big like he or Gily and he told me the truth. I was built like my mother and I would never own much bulk. I shrugged my seven year old shoulders and tried to look tough.

"You can run," he said.

"What?"

"I bet you can run faster than most people."

"That's not the same."

"Why not?"

"You and Gily can fight."

"Do you ever imagine that I or your brother would need an occasion to fight outside of an organized sporting event?"

I laughed. Gily and Dad were gentle ones in the family. Mom, April and I are known for our tempers, though April is more prone to make you laugh than anything else.

"You ever see your Mom run?"

Mom's runs were a mystery to me. She went out early in the morning and came back before anyone stirred.

"Is she fast?"

"Fastest woman in Las Vegas Law Enforcement. She's got the reflexes of a cat too. See, Gily and I have a lot of power but most of the time you don't need that. You need brains first and a little agility and a little leverage. Gily and I will never be very fast enough, so we have to barrel forward like bulls. You and your mom are the matadors. They have the real control."

So I ran. I ran with Mom. I ran with Uncle Nicky until they couldn't keep up with me anymore. After I ran, I took up Copiera. I leaped and twisted and turned and moved faster than anyone ever though possible and Dad would yell from the sidelines at track meets and martial arts tournaments.

"Remember the matador Clayton! Remember the matador!"

And so, now Dad, I yell from the sidelines. You aren't going to be able fight death head on like the bull. It's time for you to be the matador. I need you to twist away because I still need you Gil Grissom.

**Gily**

"Tell me about when Dad came to get see you the first time?" That's what Clay always wanted to know. He never tired of the story that recounted my four year old self walking into a hotel room and finding Dad there with Mom.

He stood, what seemed like twenty feet tall and he looked just like the picture in my wallet, save for peppering of white that started at his sideburns and roots.

In my mind, he was the slayer of all imaginary demons and dragons. I bragged about him when I thought Mom wasn't listening, telling everyone that he was very important and he had a lot of people to save so he had left me with Mom while he did his important work.

I wasn't supposed to come that day. I had pestered my nanny until she relented. That one moment probably made me trust myself more than anything else. I rarely second guess myself about much. I don't know how I knew but I knew Dad would be there.

He did everything I expected. He swept me and Mom away to a magical world of lights and fun and creatures of all shapes and sizes.

I still love Circus Circus, a rollercoaster fiend like my dad. We go there at least a couple times a year. And I am still half in love with Aunt Catherine, though Uncle Warrick has made it perfectly clear that's he's still not too old to kick my ass.

I clung to Dad for two years of therapy and nightmares. He took me everywhere he could. He let me sleep with him and Mom until he and Mom had a raging fight about things I didn't understand then. They had told us about organisms in my after school science club for gifted students. All my seven year brain could process was that an organism seemed to be very important to Mom.

I think that Dad felt like he was always making up for something, but the time we missed out on doesn't matter to me. In my mind, Gil Grissom, was---is the perfect father. He wouldn't go two steps without his boys.

He taught us how to cook, how to iron, how to shine our shoes, what flowers to bring on first dates and what wine went with what food, although Mom is not supposed to know about the later because none of us were over twenty one when he taught us.

He did everything his father never did. All over our suburb people would see us coming and call out, "There go the Grissom boys." Me, walking like Dad and Clay gliding like Mom.

When I left for college, he cried. Mom said he cried every day for an entire month but he refused to call until I did. He didn't want to cling. Can you believe that? I was an appendage for two years and he didn't want to call me on the cell phone he paid for, in the dorm room he furnished.

When I called him about Natalie, I asked if he thought I was too young to talk marriage. He sighed the way he does when he has to turn something over and over again in his mind. And I could see him leaning back in whatever chair he happened to be sitting in; Mom looking at him expectantly because she would have known that the call was important.

He told me he would have married Mom when he met her if he had to do it over again.

She was twenty two, I think. I am nearly twenty seven. He and Mom played footsie for the next decade, had an affair while Dad was married to another woman, had me and nearly didn't find their way back to one another.

He doesn't like to talk about the thing with Mom and his ex-wife. He is an honorable man and it shames him. I don't think he has anything to be ashamed of. He made a mistake. When the opportunity arose, he rectified it. He always said, "Gily, you are going to make mistakes. You are human. What important is how you respond to them. Never be too proud to say 'I am Sorry' or 'I was wrong. Jonas Salk and Charles Drew were only right once."

Maybe that analogy is why I chose to study medicine. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Dad, I need to you to wake up. I am only in my second year of med school and I don't believe the load of crap these doctors are handing us about your condition. You have things left to do Gil Grissom, grandchildren to help raise and advice left to dispense. Clay still has to find someone and based on his track record that won't be easy. So I am going to use some vulgar language, much to your chagrin, I am sure.

Wake your ass up Dad! I am about to ask the woman I am going to marry and I have no idea what I am doing. I can't do it without you. Besides, you haven't taught me how to do that thing that made Mom pass out that time.

You didn't think I knew about that did you?

**April**

My brother Gily never tires of telling me that I was a mistake. My Dad corrects him and says I was happy surprise. Apparently, no one expected Mom to get pregnant while she was still breastfeeding Clay.

I am the apple of my father's eye. He adores me and I revel in it. I freely admit it and let everyone know that up front. I told Vin that the first time I figured out he had a thing for me. I said to him, "Dr. Vincent LeMarque, you might think you want me; but you don't. I am the only girl and the baby and my feet have hardly touched the ground since I was born. You can't handle me."

He frowned and said, "I wasn't about to ask you out on a date Ms. Grissom." He said "Ms." in such a way as to belittle my pronouncement. "I wanted to find out if you were interested in a semester in Italy. Several other art majors have signed up for the summer course I'll teach at the university. I am not sure if you have ever been out of the country but this would be a great start for someone of your skill and talent."

Was he serious? I looked into his eyes. One is blue and one is green. People all across campus mistakenly think they are both green. I am sure it's because green makes sense in his face. Forgive the art speak, but that's the only way to describe it.

Vincent looks a lot like uncle War. He's golden. He has golden skin and golden hair so you expect his eyes to be a glistening shimmery brown, but when they aren't, you shift your perception to green.

Where was I? Mom got me tested for ADD once and I do have it, but they said since I was an artist, I went to an art magnet school and most of work, even the basic subjects, was done at our own pace.

There I go again. Where was I? Oh yeah, Vincent had no idea who I was. Who I am you might be asking. Well, I am April Maria Grissom, named after the month I was born and my grandmother. I also am a model.

I don't think I am or ever will be a super model, but I am well known enough to have my own perfume, a couple of hosting stints on MTV, a clothing line at Target, a couple of fan clubs and at least three Vogue covers in as many countries and, oh yeah, I will only do runway work if you pay some ridiculous amount of money. I hoped that would get me out of it, but greedy capitalists actually pay it.

What do I care? No skin off my nose. Last year's Fashion Week paid for my parent's villa in Italy and one year of medical school for Gily. You ever try to do something for your big brother who has protected you all your life? It was like pulling teeth. Mom finally made him take the money; after all he got stuck with me in New York after I got "discovered".

It wasn't really a discovery more like a stumble. A talent scout came to my school in the 10th grade year and I was walking by the auditorium where the acting chicas were lined up, fawning all over him. When I walk by, he jumped up and all of his papers went flying everywhere.

At the same time, he's dialing his cell phone talking wildly to someone named Elka who turned out to be his wife and the owner of the best known modeling agency in New York.

We call Mom before I can figure out how I feel about the whole thing and Mom shows up and the man gasps, because Mom and I are carbon copies and he says that he wants to sign Mom too because women her age are all the rage. She says no and mumbles something about my father not letting both of his girls do something like this and I am befuddled. Dad has never denied me anything.

So we go home and my Mom says that I should let her do all the talking. Thank God I listened to her. We stood there holding hands trying to explain it all to my father and when my mother was done he said "no".

He just didn't say no. He said a string of colorful expletives after it and returned to his crossword puzzle. That's when Mom took out the big guns. She rarely uses them in the presence of us kids, but she will if she has too.

On the way home, I told Mom that I might want to do this modeling thing because it would be good money, I could travel some and have a bit of fun. If I played my cards right, I could do my artist thing without having to worry about starving.

She made me promise that I would never do drugs and that I would not let anyone convince me that I needed to alter my body in any way. If they didn't like me gap toothed and tiny breasted, then we were out of there.

So there she sat next to my father, talking low in his ear and playing with the curls on the nape of his neck, and after about fifteen minutes Dad says okay.

Mom went with me first but Aunt Cath called and offered to take her place because my Dad was kind of pathetic. He hadn't slept a night away from Mom since they day they married. Gily told my aunt there was no need. He'd take the 'diva.' Mind you diva was not a new name. He's called me that since I refused to sell him one of my paintings when I was seven. I told him that I was holding them back for appreciation value.

Anywho. There I was looking at one of the dreamiest men in the entire world and he's there looking at me, who is at the very least mildly recognizable even if you can't rember my name. He has no idea who I am. I can't believe it. Everyone at Columbia knows who I am! My first week at school, I got a front page devoted to me nearly every day until I called the editor and told him that I knew where the Bitsy Marchum, a rock singer majoring in music, bought her coke. Dull, clean, no eating disorder me was quickly replaced.

Back to Vincent. He had no idea who I was and he didn't have a crush on me like I thought. Maybe I was wrong, but that was so rare, so I just stood there and stared for several awkward moments as I tried to extricate myself from the situation gracefully.

Apparently my silence was interpreted as skepticism or accusation and Vincent eventually became fascinated with the Italian loafers that he favors. It occurs to me that most of his clothing is Italian and expensive. He's probably buying most of his stuff in Italy. I wonder how much time he spends there.

Sheepishly he looked at me and said, "I didn't know I was that transparent."

So I wasn't wrong. Score one for the famous Grissom intuition. Gily was right.

"You are my student. This is highly inappropriate. How old are you anyway?"

He knows I am older than the rest of the undergrads; he just wanted to make sure that I am least twenty one.

"I'm twenty one. How old are you?"

I know that he is younger than the other tenured professors. "Thirty five." He says

"That's how old my father was when he met my mother. She was twenty two."

Again I got the top of his head. "How long did that last?" He scoffs.

"They have been married twenty two years, give or take. They have three drug free and relatively sane children, two dogs, a pretty good bit of money and lots of cool friends."

So it began. The affair. The affair that has now turned into a full blown relationship that I have got to tell my father about. My mother refuses to run interference on this one, although she did tell me that she'd stay in the room when I told him. Moral support. I think she's more worried about Dad than she is about me.

So that was my plan. I was going to tell Dad and the boys about Vincent and after I brokered a relative peace agreement. I was going to tell Vincent that it was okay to catch his 7 am flight, so that he could come to Vegas and ask my brothers and my father for my hand in marriage.

My Mom already gave her blessing when I told her that he bought me an orchid on our first official date and that he makes the best pancakes I have ever tasted.

The thought of my Vincent sitting across from my brothers is frightening at best. My guys aren't menacing but they do cut a striking collage. Gily and Dad are the same person at different ages. They are wide, thick and physical strength for them is as natural as their high IQ's.

Clay is different. He's thin like me and Mom. He's also one big throbbing running muscle. Currently he's in the best shape of his life, because the Olympic trials are next month and Clay hopes to make the long distance running team.

He'll make it. Clay is like the rest of us. Never failed at anything that he put his mind to.

So I am sitting here looking at my Dad's chest go up and down and I am timing the breaths to make sure his respiration isn't slowing down. I am sorry that I didn't tell him about Vincent, but if he wakes up, I'll never keep another secret. So wake up already Daddy, cause your little girl found her knight in shining armor and she wants him to meet the first man she ever loved.

Damn Mom and this babbling gene…

**Sara**

It was a damn drunk driver. My husband was on the way to pick up flowers for the table because Gily's bringing home a girl, a girl named Natalie who makes him giddy.

He told Gil that she is tall and slinky with a great ass, that her teeth are bit crooked and she has a husky voice but that she doesn't smoke and she's a real heath nut. She hardly eats meat.

Gil sat there and repeated the conversation the way Brass used to do when he wanted to let us in a conversation with a suspect and the court order for the wire tap hadn't gone through.

When Gily was finished, Gil asked him if it reminded him of anyone and he said no. My husband's mouth twitched like it does when he's amused but doesn't want to embarrass the other person. Since he is a genius who bred at least one genius, two others bordering on Mensa status, he finds himself doing that little twitchy thing all the time.

The driver was sixteen and he had no father and a coke head for a mother. He hit Gil head on. That was a little over forty eight hours ago and they are saying my sweet husband won't make it through the night. He will make it through the night and the next night and the night after that because I have done all the living I am going to do without Gil Grissom.

I am reciting Shakespeare because I don't know what else to do and it's something he would do.

"Tomorrow and Tomorrow…"

**Gil**

Sara's voice is faraway at first, then closer. I hear the kids talking about the new golf course. I wonder if we have an early tee time. I wonder what they are doing in our room. Sara says I shouldn't call them kids any longer but I told her I will call them what I damn well please. They will always be my kids, no matter how old they are. I wonder where Gily's girl is. She must think we are awfully odd, all us sequestered in this room. I don't remember what Natalie looks like. Maybe it's not morning and I fell asleep before dinner, the old man that I man. Happy old man, but old man none the less.

"Kids..." comes my best stern voice, which has never been very good. "You are grown for god's sake. Don't I ever get any alone time with my wife?"

There is shuffling and I open my eyes to very white light. Damn Sara and those 100 watt light bulbs she prefers.

Sara is kissing me and now I really want my three to go away now. I am old, but not dead.

"Honey, why are you crying" and I see three dark heads of hair over her shoulder. Clay is smiling, Gily is looking very serious, and April is making jokes about bed hair. They follow birth order patterns to the letter.

Sara tells me that I had a car accident and I tell her that I didn't and then we start to argue. Clay starts to laugh, Gily starts to cry and April is saying something about falling in love before she starts crying all over my chest. I wonder if this Natalie woman will still want to marry my son after she gets a load of this.


End file.
